


Thirteen Roses

by 20ProudSlytherin05



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: M/M, Roses, Secret Admirer, connor has depression, evan is a flower nerd, morse code? pssh flower code is best, zoe and connor friendship is bless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 21:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13199013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/20ProudSlytherin05/pseuds/20ProudSlytherin05
Summary: Connor found roses in his locker one day. Thirteen of them, to be precise. He doesn't know who they're from, but why does that matter?





	Thirteen Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning:  
> There is an attempted suicide in here, but it's not very graphic so I didn't include it in the archive warnings.

The first time Connor receives roses, there are thirteen of them. He counted - he was sure. He wasn’t sure if the number was important or not. They were purple. They were in his locker, which surprised him. He was pretty sure he was the least likely person in the whole school to be getting flowers.

Connor didn’t receive any more for almost a month, and he had almost convinced himself that they had been put in the wrong locker. It was Valentine’s day when he found more. There were thirteen again, exactly. They were pale pink, and, strangely, had been stripped of their thorns. He cast a glance down the hallway, hoping to see somebody standing awkwardly there, but nope. Just Connor.

Strange.

Connor wrote a note this time, saying  _thank you_. He felt silly, placing it in the top of his locker, but two days later, it was gone, and in its place were thirteen more roses — they had thorns this time, but the color was dark pink.

He wrote another note —  _What’s your name?_  — and though the note was gone, he received no answer. Not even roses.

A week later, Zoe knocked on his door. She wore a confused look on her face but carried fifteen white roses. “Um, these were addressed ‘to Connor.’ Is there someone you’re not telling us about?”

Connor took the flowers, and after a moment of hesitation, said, “I’m pretty sure I have a secret admirer.”

Zoe looked at the white roses. “See, I would find that hilarious and an absolute lie, but here’s the proof. And you’re handwriting’s sh*t, I would know if you sent them to yourself.”

“I think I should feel offended by your words, foul creature, but I cannot feel shooketh at this hour.”

They both laughed, and Connor felt shocked at the smile she sent his way. They hadn’t been this friendly since Connor was a kid and there was still nothing wrong with him. They had gone to the orchard…

Connor smiled at Zoe, and shut the door, placing the roses next to the rest of them, which were all dying.

Connor sat down at his computer. He looked up the meaning of thirteen roses. Friends forever didn’t seem right… He stopped. Thirteen roses symbolized a secret admirer.

Fifteen roses? Symbolized love, like all roses, but also I’m sorry. White roses told a bunch of things but one of them was secrecy.

Whoever the f*ck this nerd was, Connor wanted to meet them.

The next time he received roses was after a huge fight at home. He had skipped almost a full week of school, and when he did go he trudged through it like a zombie, yelling at anyone who crossed him.

Connor found eleven roses this time, a lovely shade of yellow. He knew that the number of flowers and the color both represented something, but he was almost afraid to look it up.

He did anyway, once he got home. They meant joy, gladness, friendship, delight, jealousy…

But they probably meant more along the lines of the promise of a new beginning, welcome back, remember me, and… and…

“I care.”

Connor asked Zoe to bring her to the flower store that evening. After the fight, he had lost the keys to his car for two weeks. She agreed, a bit startled, and he picked out twenty-four peach roses. They were f*cking expensive, too. Fifty dollars for a bunch of flowers that would die in a couple of weeks. (Connor didn’t really care, his parents were rich, but still.) He ought to thank whoever’s sending him all of these roses.

The flowers were gone the next day, and a note was left with a little smiley face which Connor thought was the cutest thing in the world.

It continued like this for a while, with roses every couple of weeks or once a month. Connor would either respond with a note or flowers of his own. It took him a while to try to remember all the different meanings for all the different colors and such, but it was fun all the same.

Until summer hit. Over the summer, he got worse and worse, with no flowers to make up for it. Larry, like always, refused to believe there was anything wrong with Connor. The fragile trust he had formed with Zoe shattered. Connor regretted it, now, but he had so much frustration and anger — he still does — and he took it out on her. There were just so many arguments.

And then at school, all it took was a kid making fun of his hair to push Connor over the edge. He wasn’t even sure if the kid who gave him roses last year still went to the school, or cared about Connor anymore. But Connor left a single black rose in the top of his locker —  _Farewell, I may not return_  — and left.

Connor almost bled out in a bathtub — he was so close — but Zoe found him. He wasn’t sure how, seeing as it was still school hours, but he passed out and couldn’t care anymore after that.

He woke up in a hospital. The white almost blinded him and he had to blink several times to get his eyes to work properly.

A nurse smiled at him, though Connor could see worry behind her brown eyes, and said something that he couldn’t understand, his ears were ringing and it blurred out all sound.

Zoe was the first one in, and Connor’s first instinct was to push her away, to scream at her for keeping him alive.

But she was talking too fast,  _too fast_ , with tears in her eyes and Connor just wanted her to stop, the ringing was getting louder, and—

Connor wasn’t sure when he had put his hands over his ears, but the noise blocked out and there was a hand rested on top of his. He opened his eyes and looked up.

There was a boy standing there. His left arm was in a cast, which was pitifully blank. He had a worried look in his eyes but stepped back the moment Connor put his hands down. “S-Sorry, you just… just looked nervous— you look- looked panicked and I just—”

“Hey,” Connor said, pulling the kid out of his downward spiral which Connor was pretty sure would have ended in a panic attack. “It’s fine. I’m not sure who you are, though.”

“O-Oh. Yeah. I’m— well, I’m Evan. But I—” Evan stopped and breathed. “I’m the guy— the person— thirteen!” Evan blurted and then stopped, looking flushed and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I-I should go—

“You put the roses in my locker.” It was phrased as a question, Connor realized. He should change that. He cleared his throat. “Why?”

“W-” Evan stopped, frowning. “What d-do you mean, ‘why.’?”

“I looked up the meaning of the roses,” Connor said. “I—” suddenly he felt faintly sick. “Zoe.” She looked up from where she had been standing awkwardly in the corner of the room. “How did you know how to find me?”

“I got your flower,” Evan said softly. “I-I know what it means, though usually it’s used in war. I p-panicked and I knew Zoe was your sister, I told her and—”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe said and slipped out of the room.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Thank you,” Connor said, after a beat. “For all the flowers. They must have cost a lot.”

“I w-work at a flower shop, s-so I receive— I can get free f-flowers sometimes, but they weren’t en- enough, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Connor smiled at him. “Thank you so much, Evan.”

Evan blushed slightly. “Um— um, here.” He held out a flower that he’d been holding for a while now, Connor realized. He took it.

It was a single rose. It didn’t have thorns — Evan definitely cut them off, from the looks of it. It was mostly yellow, with red tips. Friendship, and falling in love.

It was imperfect, with rough bumps along the stem and the petals falling off.

But so were they. And even though Connor knew he had only known Evan for a few minutes, he had really known him for over a year, even though the only conversations they had were through flower.

Connor pulled Evan into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so... I did A LOT of research on roses for this and I have no regrets. A lot of it might be wrong, but roses have a lot of controversial meanings so I think I did fine.  
> EDIT:  
> Wow, this is getting a lot of attention, way more than I thought it would get. Um... where did you guys all come from? But thank you for all the positive feedback


End file.
